Beware the Cowardice of the Lion
by Yukii and Yumii
Summary: Through a twist of fate—and treasons than run too close for comfort—Godric and Salazar find themselves in a similar yet unknown Hogwarts, meeting new inhabitants and a quite annoying stranger who thinks himself Lord of the castle they choose to call their headquarters. They don't like it in the least.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors' Note:**

Yes, you've read well and no, this is not a typo. We are not one, not three, but two authors working on this fanfic. The names are Yukii and Yumii (No shit Sherlock, this is totally not the name of the account), and we've been writing and re-writing this fic for quite a few months now (over a year ahem).

It all started as a little writing exercise on Messenger, each of us writing one sentence after the other in order to create a story. The first one involved a witch and talking unicorns… But then, as we started over and wrote something else entirely, still on Messenger, Yumii started to take a real liking to this story.

What had started as one simple sentence evolved into two, then a paragraph, and then dialogue appeared too. Yumii copied and pasted the conversation into a doc, and we kept writing from what we had, transforming a rough idea into a detailed and planned fanfic. We're basing our story on the canon, but we write it our own way, the way that we understand it, and the way we find best to explain the story we're telling.

The process of finding a title was also a bit tricky. We both had great ideas, Yumii even offered, 'A Snake on the Lion's Back' but that wasn't to Yukii's taste. So, Yumii said that maybe the opposite would work better: 'A Lion on the Snake's Back' but for some reason, Yukii liked it even less… We had a few ideas, so we proceeded to rank them from our favourite to our least favourite, and we both placed the current title plus another one we can't remember third and fourth, and fourth and third. We had to create a poll with our friends so they could vote for their favourite one, and 'Beware the Cowardice of the Lion' was born.

We were both very busy, hence the huge delay, and it took us so long to plan everything so we would both agree on what to include, when to mention it, and even now we don't fully know what's going to happen at the very end. But that's fine! At least, we managed to finish the first chapter, and we're able to deliver it to you now!

We hope you enjoy and are eager to know what you think of it!

**Disclaimer:** The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Warning:** The following has been written by two crazy Potterheads who have way too much imagination for their own good. Proceed with caution.

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**Chapter 1**

Winter came early that year and the chill was not missed by anyone. The castle was asleep due to the late hour—though two or three students were still awake doing Merlin knew what .The silence was almost unearthly, but in its strangeness, it was also peaceful in its own way.

The silver moon reflected its light on the Great Lake's frozen surface. There, as a raven croaked in the deep dark sky, the stillness of the night was broken by a bright flash of light that lit up the entire east side of the park. When finally the light dimmed down, only the figure of a man stayed, lying on the ground, injured and struggling to move at all. Dressed in damaged deep emerald robes soaked with blood, his long dark blond hair was loose around his shoulders. Though the colour of his robes might have reminded someone of one of the School, the man didn't appear to be a student here, nor did he seem to be a teacher.

Another man appeared right after him in blood brown robes, panting heavily and wincing with each movement he made. He took out a dagger to cut his palm neatly before tracing runes all over his friend's body with his blood.

"Hang in there, I'll heal you real quick."

The runes lit up, and a soft heat and golden glow emanated from it. The man in red held his breath, his eyes steadily fixated on the other. A few seconds passed, but the man still didn't stir. Panic took place in the second man's eyes as he tried tracing other healing runes in specific places of the unconscious one. He drew them on his wrists and forehead, and they glowed a soft bright blue. Slowly, the trails of blood disappeared, but slowly. He thought his runes hadn't worked again; something here was off if his magic wasn't working properly and for the life of him, he couldn't tell what. That had never happened before after all...

"Merlin, Sal don't do that...wake up, you bastard!" he cried.

_Not again_, he thought.

It seemed to take an eternity for said Sal to shift slightly before opening his eyes with extreme fatigue and difficulty.

"...I'm sorry... I..." he coughed.

"Shhh... Shhh, spare your strength, don't talk. It wasn't your fault so don't apologize you idiot," he replied, wiping his eyes.

"I should...have seen it coming... Can I..." he raised his hand.

He took his hand in his own.

"I told you to stop talking! If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry!"

His voice broke as he let out a sob, tears finally leaving his eyes to stream down his cheeks. He hadn't let himself break down like this since a really long time.

_Since then..._

"You're not allowed to leave me, alright? You're gonna make it, I promise you."

He turned his head back to the castle and smiled through his tears. He closed his eyes and drew into the last drop of magic his core held and pushed it onto the ground, knowing it would allow the current residents to know they were on the grounds. Surely Helga had sensed them coming back. It was the plan if something went very wrong, she knew. And this time, things had gone bad, indeed.

He only allowed himself to collapse next to Sal once he saw the door open on a tall silhouette, knowing the two of them would be safe from then on. He closed his eyes, holding the hand of the other man tightly.

_We're back home,_ he thought.

And then, all became dark.

**.**

**.**

There were voices around him when he awoke from his slumber. His green eyes shot open as he was very much aware someone was gazing at him. When he turned his head towards the direction of the staring, he saw two twinkling sapphires. He was immediately on his guard, his eyes searching for his mate. Trying to sit up, he was almost immediately forced back down by a strong pain in his abdomen.

"Rest, young man. You're in no condition to stand up," a feminine voice said.

The voice was reassuring, so very much like Helga's, so he unconsciously did as he was told, but his eyes kept searching the room.

"Where is Sal?" he asked with a hoarse voice, and the stranger's eyes kept on twinkling.

"Don't you worry," the old man said, "we have him in good care."

The old man took a step in his direction and he tensed.

_Who is he?_

"I'd say it's not every day we see a man with such poison running through the veins getting through it. Fortunately, our mediwitch is quite talented," he said curiously, his eyes very sharp.

He let out a relieved sigh he didn't know he was holding at the news. Then he turned back to the old man and blinked a few times, confused.

_What does he mean by mediwitch?_

He shook his head, focusing on the stranger, probably one of those refugees who came seeking shelter and assistance from them this particular year. The north had taken the worst of the clashes and a lot of people had to leave their home to relocate, at that time.

With all those new mouths to feed, the different languages tended to merge between one another. But that was the first time he'd heard this word. However, he had more important things to worry about right now, like Sal's condition... Yeah, that's right, Sal.

"Can I see him?"

"I'd love to let you, but I think it would be wise for me to ask you your name beforehand."

He narrowed his eyes.

"What would you gain out of it? And I should be the one asking you this question as a matter of fact."

At these words, confusion passed on the old man's face. Then, a soft smile soon replaced the expression, making his eyes even brighter if that was even possible. Though there was a hint of something else here which he couldn't quite point out.

"I guess it would indeed be fair of me to reveal you my own identity first. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

_Headmaster? By Myrddin! What is this old man babbling about?_

Albus looked at him from behind his glasses, eyes curious and encouraging him to do the same. Or was it suspicion? Towards him? Why would anyone be suspicious of _him_, of all people?

"You..." Godric started before stopping suddenly when a yell resonated in the tiny little room behind white curtains. The windows shook, half breaking under the pressure.

He would recognise this voice and this magic anywhere. And that's also why he worried immediately.

_Not again._

He tried getting up again, this time ignoring the searing pain in his chest, but the scream stopped and he noticed immediately a movement out of the corner of his eye.

He stilled, anger running through his entire being. The old man—Albus Dumbledore—had raised his wand.

Without taking his eyes off the man, Godric searched his pockets before realizing he wasn't wearing his own robes anymore.

"I'm sorry my boy, but I had no other choice."

Godric's gaze glowed more menacing as he said in a low tone:

"Where did you put my belongings? How dare you..." He gritted his teeth.

"Okay, stop this right away. I'm fed up of your behaviour. I've had quite the hard day so you'll just let me do whatever I need to do and go back to your duties. I've got no time for your petty—"

To his utter disbelief, he was interrupted.

"Listen my boy..."

_Just who __is_ _that_ _man was exactly?!_

He stopped as a halo of pure power started surrounding him. Godric let his power build up inside him, straight from his core, and the Headmaster could only stare at him, eyes wide in shock and disbelief before his features turned neutral once again, a slight frown lingering on his face. Godric opened his mouth to reply when he heard the scream again, and he tensed once more, the halo fading like it never appeared in the first place.

Without letting the old man the time to recover, he stood up, wincing at the pain in his thorax when he got up too fast and ran to the place the cry came from. Godric set aside the curtains and lost his balance before catching himself at the bed's end after almost falling. His legs were struggling to bear his weight, and he vaguely wondered how long he had been out for. Albus' eyes followed him, his hand clenching his wand tightly, still in shock. This man was powerful, as powerful as himself, maybe more. What the man had displayed proved it too well. As it was, he could certainly be a threat to the castle and its inhabitants.

Sal was lying on the bed, pale and sick into the same white attire he was himself dressed into. A woman stood by his side, an empty potion bottle in one hand, the other resting on her hip. Godric stared at the bottle with fiery eyes. He didn't like the look of it.

_Never again._

"What are you..." Godric started before being interrupted by the woman.

"Now, now. I understand it is painful mister, but the poison has to get out of your body one way or another. Now stop acting childish and take your third potion. What were you two even doing to get into such a state?"

She took another potion which was sitting on the bedside table behind her and gave it to Sal—who just stared at it as though he could make it vanish (and he probably could)—before going to the other end of the room to write something on a notebook while muttering things like, "Never saw this before!" to herself. Albus Dumbledore gave him a glance, then turned his gaze to Sal and back at him, approaching tentatively, wand in hand.

After inspecting the vial for a few more seconds**,** Sal determined it wasn't dangerous and swallowed the potion reluctantly. With a high hiss, he cursed the damn potion which tasted like mud and burned his throat. The woman paled suddenly when hearing that peculiar sound. The Headmaster only twitched his eyebrow, and looked at Sal with narrow eyes, but didn't say a word. Godric walked closer to his mate and dropped at his side. He didn't look like he minded the hiss and took his mate's hand in his own, thumbs rubbing it tenderly.

"I'm sorry..." Sal said, half-averting his gaze.

"Never say that again. It was not your fault," Godric replied softly.

The man gave him a weak smile.

"Bloody Gryffindor."

Despite the smile on his face, Godric could see drops of sweat pearling on his forehead and lifted a hand to touch it. He was burning.

"You've got a fever, Sal."

He let his magic run through his palm to the other man's skin like he was used to. The other closed his eyes and sighed, pleased. Godric smiled slightly when he saw Sal's cheeks taking a darker shade of colour. Their magic had always worked well together.

Sal met his eyes before narrowing them, looking at a place behind his friend's back. Godric followed his gaze and found the old man standing behind him, wand raised. The mediwitch gasped.

"Albus!"

"Forgive me, Poppy, but I find all of this very...intriguing, to say the least." He scratched his beard with his free hand. "Who are you two exactly? How did you get here?"

"That would be... our question to ask, stranger. I never forget a face and I can assure you that I have never seen yours before," replied the said Sal.

_That _was odd. Sal was one of those who checked the identity of every person who stepped onto Hogwarts' grounds. If they had been successful in their attempt with the time-turner, new faces musn't pop up from nowhere. There was something else playing here.

Sal narrowed his eyes again and he met Godric's, silently sharing their thoughts on the matter. Then, Sal spoke again.

"You better... answer quickly. We have no time to lose in—" He coughed. "—pointless conversation."

Albus pursed his lips. His eyes were no longer twinkling and his grip tightened on his wand. There was just something in the injured man that he was wary of. Something not quite right, but not entirely wrong either. He could sense this man's magic was also extremely powerful. It wasn't a power he'd sensed a lot during the past decades. Not enough on their side of this bloody war, anyway.

Somehow, he knew everything he had to know was there, right in front of him, but he couldn't express the feeling he had. His eye twitched when finally, it hit him.

"Where did you two come from? How did you break through the castle's protections?"

There was a deafening silence before Sal turned to Godric, narrow-eyed. He had never seen him this quiet before. Surely, he was planning to do something. Now was to know when it would come.

Godric was expressionless, but there was something through their connexion that was telling him to prepare himself for the next move. A glint in his eye caught his own gaze.

_There it is._

In a pompous gesture, the red-haired man turned around to look directly in the Headmaster's eyes.

"I'd like to thank you, my Lady, for all you've done for us, and for him mainly." He gently pulled on their link a little bit. "We owe you greatly," he said, never looking elsewhere but into the wise blue eyes of the older one.

He bowed his head and then drew his hand in the air. In a swift movement, a golden rune appeared in front of him and both Sal and him disappeared behind a smoky fog. Dumbledore had no time to prevent their escape.

Sighing, he stood there for a while, still confused the two strangers could have Disapparated right in front of him without having answered his questions beforehand. He thought it out. They were still in the castle, that was for sure. He could sense it, but somehow, he couldn't tell where. He frowned at that thought. That wasn't normal. He was supposed to feel through each stone of the castle...

Pomfrey cleared her throat behind him, and he turned to face her. She had a worried look painted on her face.

"What is the matter, Poppy?" he asked her.

She fidgeted, thinking of how to phrase what she was about to reveal.

"I just thought you would like to know those two won't last two days alone in the castle in the state they're in," she replied. "Plus," she continued with a slight blush on her cheeks, "we still have their stuff."

"In this case," Albus continued, "it would indeed be wise to look for them while they are still on the grounds. Without any of the students or teachers knowing of course."

'_Especially Umbridge_' was left unsaid, but they both knew it.

"Of course," she said.

"Only Severus has to know. I don't want to worry anyone."

Poppy's eyes narrowed. She looked like she wanted to say something else but didn't, leaving the room to the man and all his wise-less schemes.

When the door closed, Albus rubbed his temples and sighed heavily, thinking of a simple way to handle the new and rather bizarre situation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors' Note:**

Hi! After so many months, we're finally proud to deliver the second chapter! We've been discussing what should happen in this one for some time, and while we've got mainly what we wanted, some scenes had to be left out for future chapters. Ideas just kept flowing in, and we spent an hour and a half just trying to find where we should place them instead.

Time was also against us, and we really had to find a moment when we would both be in the mood to write this particular story, and that matched both our schedules. In the end, even the Summer wasn't a good time to write, especially with the three heat waves Yumii suffered.

We would like to thank everyone who read the story, put it in their alerts and favourites, and left us a review. At least we know you guys like what we're writing!

Anyway, enough about us—who cares anyway? You're all here for the fic!—and onto the story now. Enjoy~

**Disclaimer: **The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Beta:** Witchmeister, thanks once more, we hope you'll keep doing an amazing job at reading our crazy ideas and correcting our crazy mistakes 3

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**Chapter 2**

Godric was sat on the floor, tons of books piled up around him. He had gone to the library while the entire castle was asleep, and had searched the shelves in hopes of finding a remedy for Sal. The thing was, he knew his mate was poisoned, but he didn't know exactly which type of poison he was suffering from, so he didn't even dare to attempt preparing a cure.

During his night stroll, he encountered a rather annoying meowing creature, and was forced to freeze it. The poor animal was still motionless at the entrance of the shortcut he took—that only he knew of, as he was the one who created it to escapade Rowena when she was deep on her studies.

And there he was, back in the tiny room, and feeling utterly helpless after having read most of the books—which didn't help him in any way. His gaze navigated from the last book he had just closed to his friend, still passed out. Sal was whining and groaning during his sleep. His face and clothes were damp in sweat, silver locks were stuck on his face, and he was trembling. His traits looked stiff and his closed eyes were wrinkled.

He took a piece of cloth and wet it in a little bucket he placed next to him earlier. He wringed it and ran it gently on his friend's face, his neck and behind his ears to somewhat ease his pain. A sigh peered through Sal's chapped lips. His fever didn't seem to go down at all, and Godric was worrying more and more for his mate's life.

Hurt travelled through his chest, and his mind went blank for a second, his head dizzy. He too was feeling very tired from the past events, but couldn't afford to rest even for a second. It was turning to be very bad for his own health, but what could he do if not that? After what happened he really couldn't do less for Sal… He knew for a fact the other man would do the same for him, and right now, Sal needed his friend to be there for him. Damn his exhausted thoughts, he wouldn't close an eye before the other had shown the slightest hint of getting better.

Godric was pained to see Sal so sick. And he felt even more useless in this situation, unable to help him get better. And he was so tired after reading all those books… Sal mumbled something in his sleep, and Godric took his friend's hand, stroking the back of it gently with his thumb. He looked at that face, pale as death, and only the thin chest heaving up and down slowly showed him that he wasn't dead. But for how much longer…

He sighed, and opened yet another book in the vain hope that he would find anything useful to cure Sal. Pursing his lips, he read over a dreadful explanation of the way the _Pain Killing potion _of this time period was brewed. Even _him—_who didn't know a thing about this art—could tell that they were wasting a lot of time and ingredients in this mixture.

His reading was interrupted by a muffled sound that seemed to come from behind the door, and instantly, he was on his feet. Keeping his eye on Sal, he quietly walked to the door and listened closely as the sound went right past their hideout and kept going along the corridor.

"Show me, dearest," he whispered. The wall shimmered and he was able to see the hall behind. The corridor was brightly lit, the sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows and reflecting on the walls of the waking castle—was it really morning already? Godric took a look at the hall. There was no one here, but somehow the pace kept on echoing around.

Soon, voices accompanied the footsteps, some quiet and others louder, before the hall filled with yawning students. When they disappeared around the corner, Godric waved his hand in a _Revelio_.

There was nobody near except for him and Sal.

He put his forehead against the stonewall and let out a sigh. He hoped no one would need the books he borrowed…

**.**

**.**

Albus knew there were a lot of places still unknown to him, and he had no doubt one of them would be where the two newcomers were hiding right now. Hogwarts had always had this aura of mystery he liked, everything here was so… magical it was probably one of his favourite places in the world. There was no other place that gave him that tingling feeling; the new students coming every year, taking care of them, raising them almost as if they were his own children. Over the years, he started to feel more at home than anywhere else—well, once there was a place… no, _someone_ who made him feel like this, but… Those days were long gone, though a part of him was still pulling him back to this bygone past.

He looked through the high window illuminating the corridor of the fourth floor, his eyes lingering on the horizon. He had seen this sight many times, yet it always seemed different with every new gaze. In his youth, he used to come here when he was troubled, which was often, since he always had thoughts for Ariana still at home… whatever Aberforth could say about the matter, she'd counted. He sighed, letting himself loosen up a little for a few seconds. The rustling of cloth against the shining floor made him open his eyes once more, and he turned his head in time to see Severus walking down the stairs, exchanging a swift glance with him before disappearing altogether.

With a last glance at the clouded sky, he walked to the Great Hall, greeting a few sleepy students on his way. Despite the recent events, life at the castle was still the same, and he had to keep acting the same towards the young wizards. In no way could they get to know, by any means, that strangers had arrived the previous night. With all that happened the previous years, Albus had hoped to finally have a peaceful year without endangering any of his students. Of course, it was only a matter of time until they all believed in Voldemort's return, but until he manifested himself again, Albus would do everything in his power to keep them safe. But who knew who those men were and what they wanted here? The arrival of the two men was something he was absolutely unprepared for, and right now they were roaming freely within the Castle's walls, out of the Headmaster's control. Who knew who they were and what they wanted here? The old man hated not knowing. It made him feel powerless.

Reaching his seat in the middle on the teachers' table, he sat and entangled his fingers. Minerva was talking a little too seriously with Filius and the other was answering in kind, deep into their conversation. Next to them, Pomfrey was silent, frowning at her plate. When she looked up and saw she had all his attention, she turned her head, frowning again, but this time angst showed in her eyes. He glanced back at the Great Hall, watching Severus speaking with some third year Slytherin before coming to sit next to him.

"Any clue?" he asked, not looking away from the cheerful students ahead.

"Some of my students claim to have seen Potter sneak out of his dormitory last night," the potions master replied in his usual dreary tone. "They couldn't resist playing him a trick and locked him up in a bathroom."

Both teachers turned their gaze at the Gryffindor's table, where a worn out Harry sat, eating among his friends and occasionally throwing murderous glances towards the Slytherin's table. Obviously, he had managed to get out of his predicament, but did he get any sleep at all?

"As amusing as the situation might have seemed," he continued, "it was my duty as head of house to reprimand them… and apparently, I should have been clearer," he said as Draco attempted to cast a hex at Potter. "Mr. Malfoy, you would be kind to wait for me in my office."

Draco rose up elegantly, nose in the air, and turned his back but not before smirking at Potter arrogantly. Severus sighed and began to eat again.

"As for your question," he turned towards Dumbledore once more, "I'm afraid I haven't gathered a single clue about our men's whereabouts." He seemed to think for a moment, but it was difficult to know for sure with his usual expressions. "The one thing I'm wondering about is, why was Potter in the corridors at such a late hour? What could he be plotting this time?"

Albus chuckled.

"You may be inclined to let him wander little, after what actually happened last year—"

"Do _not_ speak about it, I beg you. Potter isn't a child anymore and he supposedly is able to read the rules and to bend to them like everyone else in this accursed castle!"

"Oh, well you're overreacting my dear friend. I'm sure he wasn't doing anything wrong."

Severus grumbled. _Does he even bother listening__?_

"If he wasn't, then why was he even outside his dormitory past curfew? Had I been the one to find him on the spot, I would have taken points away from his House immediately."

The Potions Master tried to make his point come across, but he had the feeling Albus wanted to drop the subject, judging by the unusually faint twinkle in his eyes. Sighing, the Head of Slytherin recentered the conversation on their two strangers.

"How do you plan on finding our… men? I have already strolled through the entire castle last night, to no avail. Somehow, they seem to know the place more than we do, it makes little sense," he added, fuming under his breath.

Albus frowned. Still, he had no doubt they were there, somewhere. He could feel their magical imprints in the very walls of the castle, given how strong they were, but no clue could lead them to the unknown place they hid in.

They were lucky the supposed threat they posed wasn't falling on their heads at the moment. They had much to do already with Umbridge and didn't want to accumulate troubles. The general mood at the teachers' table was tense due to her simple presence.

His eyes darkened.

They all knew what it meant for Hogwarts to have the lady in pink here, and the watchful presence of the Ministry within their quarters wasn't helping the students focus in their studies.

Well, as long as she was doing a good job teaching the students how to defend themselves in case of danger, Albus wasn't going to complain much. They would all need to know how to fight in the inevitably upcoming war.

But already she had taken from him some of his usual duties, and even if it gave him more time to focus on more pressing matters, he knew he had to be careful around her. No one could ever be too sure with Cornelius.

He closed his eyes and suddenly, it came back: a wave of pure magical power hit him. It had happened a few times since _The Arrival_ but never had it been this strong and he wasn't the only one to notice.

All the ghosts had come to a stop, bringing the attention of a few students to them. Their smiles faded and they looked around to each other. The Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron seemed especially shaken by the sudden outburst of magic. These two, followed by a few other ghosts let out piercing shrieks before flying out of the Great Hall, successfully interrupting the remaining students' breakfast.

The ghosts that had stayed in the hall proceeded to swiftly ignore what had just happened by continuing their previous activities. But the deed was done: something was definitely wrong with the castle.

A commotion shook every house table and soon they couldn't even hear their own neighbour. The uproar grew before a sharp snap silenced it. Every pair of eyes turned to the teachers' table to see a very upset-looking Umbridge glaring at them.

"That is quite enough," she growled before sitting back down, her eyes never leaving them as she started stirring her tea, a faint satisfied smile on her lips.

Albus and Severus shared a glance.

While Albus had—although reluctantly—agreed to let a member of the Ministry into the school as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he was still the Headmaster, the one in charge. He would need to have a word with her about authority. But, he thought despite all, as long as she did the job for which she was employed, he would disregard any methods used so long as they were legal and helpful towards the students. He then counted on his fellow co-workers and on the students to report any unethical activity on her part. He knew fairly well the means the Ministry was ready to use to get witches and wizards around their little finger. Dolores Umbridge would no doubt try to use at least one of such methods, being a fervent believer of the Ministry's good ways.

"Severus, if you would…" Albus started before being interrupted by the squeaking of a chair.

"No, Albus. I'll investigate the matter. Severus has a lot on his plate already and you seem to be the only one here willing to forget that," Minerva said, a slight frown in place. "Being able to rely on your staff is good, but pushing one to the limits isn't. I'll look into what is wrong with the ghosts while you give our Potions Master a rest, for once."

Severus scowled, but Albus' smile didn't disappear until yet another wave of magic—less powerful than the last one, and he surely was the only one here to actually feel it—made him sigh and pinch his crooked nose.

"Very well, Minerva," he told the Charms teacher. "I'll let you investigate the ghosts." Then, in a quieter voice, he added to Severus, "I'm counting on you to keep searching the castle whenever possible. I'll, of course, do the same on my side."

Severus nodded ever so slightly, focussing on his meal again, although he barely touched his food.

**.**

**.**

Though his comrades were all babbling about the strange behaviour of the ghosts, Harry's mind was elsewhere and a deep frown marred his features. He felt… angry for no apparent reason and not for the first time this week. A headache followed him since he woke up this morning and he couldn't tear his eyes off the map hidden on his lap under the table.

His gaze followed the Name-That-Shouldn't-Be here at all. It was… impossible, but so were a lot of things in his life. He sighed, his attention shifting on the pumpkin juice Hermione insisted he drank.

When he turned them back on the map, another dot grabbed his interest.

Draco Malfoy. Who was certainly close to the Name-That-Shouldn't-Be. Very close. He held his breath.

He saw Malfoy's name stay there a while, then move past the Name-That-Shouldn't-Be as though he'd just been tying his shoelaces or replacing a bang on his head in front of a mirror—never affording any imperfection—and carry on his way to Snape's office without even halting, as if there was nothing on his way. As if he hadn't seen anything—or anyone—out of place…

But it was impossible, although Remus had said it many times: the map didn't lie.

**.**

**.**

Godric closed his eyes, feeling the wind tangling his already messed braids and for a moment, all his troubles seemed to vanish. He was so tired from spending the night researching a way to cure his friend, and his body was only asking to rest for a while. Just five minutes would be enough. But he had so much on his mind, and he knew, he just knew he wasn't allowed to such luxury. There was a lot of things to do, a lot to think about, and while he was wasting his time pondering, Sal was hurting.

He opened his eyes and paced in front of the hidden room where Sal lay safe from further harm. He couldn't help but feel responsible for his friend's poisoning. Because, it was his fault after all, wasn't it? The pain Sal was fighting against, the injury, the _poison_, it hadn't been a coincidence. Chance had nothing to do with the situation they were in, considering what he'd seen, considering the aim of the traitor's blade.

An image of said traitor appeared in his mind and he shook his head, frowning deeply. In some way, he still didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to even consider such a betrayal possible, such cowardice from someone like _him_. But the reality was here: Sal had been seriously injured, and they now were in their castle with unknown people claiming to own the place, in a time that hadn't once crossed his mind as a possibility whatsoever. Yes, he knew their plan had backfired, he knew the tampered time travel's seals had dumped them in the future—a very distant one—and he just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that they may never return to _their _castle, their home. Their family.

Godric sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretching his arms and legs to try and regain some energy. He ventured further down the corridor, and took a secret passage down to the kitchens in order to retrieve some food for him and Sal, when he would wake up again. He would undoubtedly be hungry then. With a wave of his wand, he determined it was safe for him to exit the passage and he quickly neared the kitchen's doors, tickling the pear on the painting without even thinking about it. The doors opened before him and he cast another glance right and left before entering.

Breakfast time was ending and the house-elves were busy cleaning the dishes, but one finally caught sight of him and turned in his direction. The kind creature opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His large eyes looked confused and lost all at once, and he nearly dropped the plate he was drying on the floor. Another elf seemed to notice his unusual absence and tapped gently on the elf's shoulder, an air of worry on her face, when her eyes too, landed on Godric. He waved a hand at them with a light smile, and, while the first elf fainted, the other screamed in terror, thus bringing general panic in the previously quiet—apart from the clinking of dishes and cutlery and distant chatter—kitchen.

Godric's eyes widened and with a roll of his wrist, his wand popped in his hand. He made a wide gesture across the room and murmured "Impero". Immediately, silence befell the room as all house-elves came to a stop, obeying the man's command. He sighed in relief as his new position in the castle wouldn't be given away. He swished his wand in the air a few times, setting the elves back into their previous tasks as he went on to take some food, as was previously planned.

Sighing, Godric cast a notice-me-not spell once more and left the kitchen, following absentmindedly the hallways, deciding to take the scenic route. He could cross them eyes closed if he wanted to, anyway. He came upon no beings—apart from the group of ghosts who had flown above him, hesitating for a second, before carrying on their way a few moments ago.

He was nearing the room Sal was resting in when a young blonde figure approached from his left. Weren't everyone in the canteen for breakfast? Quickly and silently, he moved to his right, pressing his body tight against the wall and holding his breath, hoping the student would just move past him like the ghosts had.

"Tch, stupid Potter," he growled, clenching his fists.

Godric raised an eyebrow at the name but kept quiet as the boy's footsteps slowed when he noted the characters **of** the paintings seemed to watch him closely. The boy frowned, a drop of sweat running across his temple.

"What? Never seen a wizard before?" he snarled at the family in the portrait, and they all scurried away in their house, watching cautiously through the curtained window and pointing at something behind him.

The blond boy froze before turning carefully to look directly through him and Godric eyed him coolly. The boy glared at the paintings before departing. Finally.

"Curse them! Making me lose precious time," the blond muttered, putting a hand to his face to push aside a strand of hair.

With the boy finally out of sight and earshot, Godric let out a soft relieved sigh and got back on his way to Sal, his arms still full of food for the both of them. Soon enough, he reached their hideout, and, making sure nobody was around, carefully pressed a loose brick in the wall to reveal the hidden room. He slipped inside the small place and plopped down next to his unconscious companion, who was groaning and shifting slightly in his sleep.

Godric took Sal's hand, drawing in quiet breaths. When he thought about every single thing that eventually brought them in their current predicament, he couldn't help but feel like a complete coward. If only he hadn't turned a blind eye to the signs, if only he had listened… if only he wasn't so…

He snickered to himself. So much for bravery.

Godric inhaled sharply when Sal's hand squeezed his as he brought an apple to his mouth. Turning his attention back on his mate, he studied his sweaty face closely and noticed two silver orbs staring at him weakly.

"Welcome back," Godric whispered, a bitter smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors' Note:**

Hewoo, it's us again!

Happy Halloween

This chapter got delivered quicker than anticipated, we thought you'd like that, so here it is!  
If this is mainly a Draco POV, that's entirely his fault: he wanted too much to be a main character, so we gave him over half the chapter to shine under the spotlight. That won't happen again though.

We worked very hard to publish this chapter today for a very specific reason you'll understand sooner or later (hopefully sooner than later)! Enjoy!

PS: Forget everything you think you know about Hogwarts.

**Disclaimer:** The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Beta:** Witchmeister, thank you so much for correcting our chapter in such short notice!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Draco was waiting in his godfather's office, still thinking about the odd reaction from the portraits on his way there. He was sure there had been nothing behind him—he had checked. Maybe someone had been following him? Someone with an invisibility cloak, perhaps… He'd have to ask his housemates if they saw anyone leaving the Great Hall after him.

Suspiciously, he glanced around the room, but to his utter surprise, there were no portraits in sight. He frowned. This office, as far as Draco was concerned, was the only one bare of any frames. Then again, Severus wasn't the most pleasant person to be around, so they would probably be fed up with him and leave anyway.

Sighing, he started drumming his fingers against the armchair. He knew he wasn't really in trouble. Severus was his godfather and surely he wouldn't do anything to anger his mother. Especially now that his father allowed the Snake to enter their family house—she didn't show it, but Draco just knew rage was boiling inside her, and seeing her like this made him rethink things he never bothered to question before. Was this really the right course of action to take? Were the Dark Lord's principles fundamentally correct? Taking part in a war was one thing. Being on the right side was another. Being on the victors' side…

Draco wasn't used to doubt. He was a Malfoy for Merlin's sake! A Malfoy never hesitated, or at least, never showed it. But he was a Black, also, and Blacks always found their way to the right side. They were cunning and opportunist, and they weren't ashamed to show it.

But being a Black and a Malfoy had its flaws too. While being a Malfoy allowed him to use his name to reach his goals easily, he was merely riding in his father's coattails. And being a Black reminded him of that family's failure to bring about one child who could have accomplished great things had he only seized the opportunity. Draco closed his eyes, sighing. For as long as he could remember, he always had a grudge against Sirius, his mother's cousin, and it hadn't got any better when he learnt how he had behaved with others. If only he could—

His wandering thoughts were interrupted by a clattering noise outside the door and someone rushing past. Taking out his wand, he reached the door as silently as he could and readied himself. There was someone behind it and it could not be Severus—a man with the gift to walk so silently he even succeed in frightening his mother once. Who but him would come this far into the dungeons? He took a deep breath and jumped outside Severus' office, wand first, ready to cast a nasty curse. However, the figure had already drifted away and all he saw were two big drooping ears turning at the corner.

What on earth was a house-elf doing here? And why was it there at all? If he recalled correctly, there was nothing but a dead-end this way. That wasn't making any sense, but who said elves were smart enough to understand such cheap logic?

The clinking of whatever the elf was carrying abruptly stopped, as well as the sound of the creature's footsteps. He frowned. Something was off, he just knew it. He breathed out.

He was no Gryffindor. He was no Gryffindor. He was no—

Tightening his fist around his wand, Draco took one step towards the direction where the elf had ran off to when a hand slumped onto his shoulder.

"I believe I told you to wait _in_ my office Mr. Malfoy, not outside," Severus' voice echoed against the walls of the dungeons.

Draco startled and lowered his wand immediately, and turning towards Severus, he saw his glare settle on him. With no choice but to obey, he followed his godfather back into his office, but not before he glanced back one last time where the being had disappeared. He didn't think he had imagined it. He sat back on the chair in front of the desk and prepared to be lectured by the potions master. His godfather, turning his back to him, pinched his nose and sighed.

"Draco…" He started.

The blond-haired boy clicked his tongue and looked away.

"I know," he mumbled.

Severus sighed again and looked at Draco with a tired look but did not sit down. He crossed his arms instead.

"You should know better than behave like you did in the past. You can't attract attention. Not now."

"I know, alright?" Draco repeated. "But it's just… Potter." He almost spat the last word.

"I thought you could control your temper. You cannot afford to pick fights like you used to anymore. Act like an adult, be responsible."

Clenching his fists, Draco kept his face stern.

"You seem… tired," he drawled.

Severus turned towards him, his eyes sharp. "Things… are moving quickly, even too quickly I'd say."

"Good. I'm getting bored here. I hope I'll get to torture lots of—"

"Draco, I'm—" Severus started abruptly, then spoke in a calmer tone, "concerned for you. We don't know when the Dark Lord will be ready to strike, and we don't know when he'll give you your first order. Nor do we know what kind of order he'll give you. Don't be in such a rush to take up arms. Make sure you don't do anything careless, if you would be so kind." Snape sneered, a smirk on his lips. Then his face went back to its usual emotionlessness. "Nonetheless, Potter isn't worth it."

Draco smirked too, pleased to see his godfather still hated Potter as much, and nodded once. He then stood up from his armchair and made for the door.

He stopped there, with his hand on the handle and without turning, he said:

"Actually, there's something I wished to tell you. A word from my mother."

"Go on," Severus encouraged, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

He turned his head and smiled.

"If anything happens to my son, you'll regret it deeply."

Snape didn't react and after a few seconds, Draco left his professor alone. He erased the smile from his face and composed himself in a casual but graceful demeanor. Looking around him, he noticed the students rushing to their classes, breakfast having ended while he was with his godfather. Instead of turning left to go to Herbology, he turned right to try and find the house-elf he had seen earlier, disregarding Snape's advice.

He strolled the corridors, going deeper into the castle than he ever did. Severus' office was far behind him already. There, the hallways were poorly lit, but he carried on. An eerie silence surrounded the area.

Then, a soft breeze hurled around him, and the sound of quick footsteps walked past him. Frozen, he stared at the house-elf stunningly. The small creature stared back at him with his huge round eyes, looking baffled. The elf had come from the other direction, but when Draco looked up, he saw nothing but a bare wall at the end of the corridor. Just as he had thought: there was nothing here.

But the elf had gone this way, that he was sure of. He couldn't just have disappeared, right? Although, it was in his knowledge that elves had the ability to Apparate at will. But he was pretty sure no creature could do so inside of Hogwarts, not even a house-elf.

Could it be…?

Carefully, he raised his hand and patted the wall. His fingers started disappearing behind it when he heard a voice behind him.

"Mister Wizard?"

He turned back to the house-elf holding an empty tray in his tiny hands and raised an eyebrow at him. He pushed his hand further into the wall, examining the elf's expression turning to worry as he looked between the wall and Draco's face.

"What?" he snapped and the house-elf looked down.

"M-Mister i-isn't allowed—"

"I beg your pardon? I didn't quite understand your stuttering."

"M-Master told Peeky n-not to let a-anyone go through the w-wall."

"Master?" Draco stepped through, half his body already disappearing at the other side of the wall—wherever it led. The house-elf rushed to prevent him from going any further, dropping the tray, and clung to his arm.

"N-No, you are n-not allowed!"

Draco pulled, but the house-elf didn't seem to give up.

"Bloody creature! Let go of me this instant!" he cried, and he pulled so hard he lost his balance when the elf released him.

He closed his eyes in anticipation of an imminent shock and fell on his side right through the wall instead of leaning against it. The Slytherin winced in pain, pulling himself up on his behind and massaging his sore shoulder.

"Stupid elf," he muttered under his breath.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself into a large hallway pierced by plenty of windows. The early morning light blinded him for a moment. He glanced left and right, but he was—thankfully—alone. He got to the nearest window and gazed at the lake below. It seemed he was on the first or second floor.

So it really was a secret passageway then. He turned back and touched the wall again, his fingers disappearing like they had previously. Strange. How would a house elf know of such hidden paths within Hogwarts? And why would such a creature feel the need to use it?

Draco recalled the metallic sounds he heard when the elf had passed in front of the office, and the empty tray he was carrying when he came back from this side… Perhaps that was how the elves were moving through the castle unseen? It did make sense. But something was amiss, and Draco needed to know what.

He trailed in the corridor for some time, pacing back and forth before he saw it: a small sort of crest engraved in the wall itself. A lion with a snake wrapped around one of his paws was designed and he wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't looked twice. He got close to touch it: it was warm under his fingers. He recoiled.

It kept on getting stranger…

"Mr. Malfoy," a squeaky voice called. "You cannot be here…"

Draco turned to face the elf—was it the same? He could never tell them apart—surprised to hear his name being called. The creature was looking at him with his big, watery eyes, but Draco ignored him. He turned back to the crest instead. Frowning, he took his wand and pointed it to the crest lookalike.

"Mr.—"

"Shut the hell up, scum!" he scowled.

Silence.

"I hope you're not behaving thus with Mrs. Sprout, Mr. Malfoy," said a voice and he turned abruptly.

Dumbledore stood there, eyeing him with the usual annoying sparks. Didn't he know how to be angry? His father would have already lectured him with a spell had he found Draco lurking about the castle instead of attending his classes.

"And may I know why you are not in class?" the headmaster asked when Draco didn't answer.

Draco glared at the wall, not saying anything, and the headmaster smiled a little.

"Well, you should hurry then. You wouldn't want to miss the lesson on the Chinese Chomping Cabbage, would you?" he told him.

The student clicked his tongue, and, after one last glance at the wall and a glare at the headmaster, went on his way.

He would need to investigate further later on.

However, as he walked further, the castle's magic entered his mind and carefully removed the memories of the crest from his mind.

Only a strong feeling of confusion remained.

**.**

**.**

Sal bit weakly into a pear, under Godric's watchful eyes. He needed to eat, otherwise he wouldn't get any better. The man was sweaty and still very pale, well, more than usual. Godric pressed a damp cloth against his friend's skin, his neck, down his arms, to cool him a bit. If he was more honest with himself, he'd admit that Sal's health was worsening. But he was weak and he wouldn't admit it to Sal. He just couldn't.

He put the cloth down and held out a glass of water but his mate shook his head and he put it down angrily, water splashing on the books. He quickly spelled it away.

He thought if he took care of Sal enough, he would get better, but that was obviously not the case. He brought his knees against his chest and took his head in his hands, pulling his hair. He was lost. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he would do if Sal… If he… He didn't want to think about it.

"You're thinking too much, it's hurting you, idiot," Sal mumbled without his usual sharpness.

Godric hummed softly, distracted. Salazar sighed.

"How… do you think they're doing?"

Ric glanced towards Sal, seeking comfort in seeing him _still_ _alive_. Salazar put his pear down, barely bitten into, and reached to grab Godric's hand.

"I think," he started, "they're doing just fine without us at the moment. Have faith."

Godric nodded and squeezed his mate's hand ever so gently. He meet Sal's eyes and they stared at each other for a moment.

Godric abruptly stood up and began pacing. He ran his hand into his bright red hair, feeling the knots catching into his rings, and he pulled annoyingly. Stopping, he released a deep breath and came back to the bed, lifting the blanket and lying down against Sal. He closed his eyes. Sal wrapped his arm around Ric, running his hand gently in his hair, softly untying the knots one by one. They stayed there a while, in silence, just listening to each other's breath and heartbeat. By Myrddin, he had missed this.

In times of war, it was so difficult to settle down and just… enjoy what they had.

When was the last time they took their time?

With his eyes still closed, Godric remembered the first time he had met Sal. He couldn't explain it, but he had felt the other man's magic lick his when they shook hands. Now that he thought about it, he could swear he saw a hint of tease in his eyes. Their friendship came naturally, like flowers in spring, and exchanging even the simplest of mundanities just felt _right_. For the first time in his life, he had found someone who understood him, who shared his ideals.

They would often go to a lake, near Godric's family home, and sit under the shade of a willow tree. Sal would read a thick book, probably about runes, while Ric would nap, taking in the birdsongs, the scent of the daisies and the sound of the wind rustling the tree branches. The occasional swan or goose would swim in the lake, coming close to them, lured by the threads of colourful magic escaping them.

Those were times of peace when the two of them would escape, together, the strict education and sometimes suffocating manners of their families.

But did they really have such time now? Now that so many things had changed…

Godric fell asleep first, soothed by Sal's hand in his hair, ignoring the slight coughs and wheezing of his mate.

**.**

**.**

"We need more bandages over here!" a voice shouted, the tone so commanding that even in the ruckus, people turned their heads towards it.

A woman not over twenty rushed to the one asking for them, tripping over her own feet in the process but steadying herself at the last moment.

"The bandages you asked for, L-Lady Helga," she babbled.

The Lady in question took them impatiently, unfolded them and teared them in two pieces with her teeth, her other hand busy pressing against a bloody wound.

"Help me get her up," she said to the woman awkwardly leaning next to her. She obliged, carefully lifting her upper body and placing a shaky hand on the injured child's chest. There was so much blood… "Get a grip!" Helga said, wrapping the bandage around the wound and tracing healing runes around it and on her heart.

"Y-Yes ma'am!" the younger woman said, repressing her tears. Around them, wounded were being treated with the same energy.

After she tied the knot tightly, she got up, followed by the young woman who helped her. Helga steadied her when she saw her swing and put her bloody thumb on her wrist, swiftly drawing a rune which would help her clear her thoughts. She never had been as good as Salazar with the runic arts, but she knew enough.

She made sure the woman was going to take care of the child and walked across the room, gazing around to see if anyone needed her.

There were people everywhere, wounded or healthy. Some she knew, some she didn't. It wasn't her job to. It was Sal's. In his absence, a young man was doing his business. She met him a few times. A good lad, good on his feet. Sal had always been good at judging people.

A few men entered the Hall, looking tired and still in their fighting attires. The third squad had come back then. They walked—not ran, never ran, it was the first rule here—towards her.

"Lady Helga," the general addressed her, saluting politely, "we are back with some news."

The unharmed men went to help the wounded, while the lightly injured grabbed bandages for themselves, not making a fuss about their states, be them good or bad.

"I'm listening," Helga replied, walking towards an injured soldier to tighten his bandage properly. He winced slightly in pain but said nothing otherwise.

"Yes!" the general started. "Our enemies don't seem to be moving forward at the moment, our forces managed to keep them at bay. But I'm afraid we haven't received news of Sir Slytherin's team in quite a while…"

Helga nodded sharply. Trouble was brewing in the East. There weren't many villages this way but the countryside was in a hard time. She frowned. They would have to find some new food elsewhere. And wasn't it bad! They already had trouble feeding everyone and with the last group of civilians arrived, they were going to reduce the portion of everyone.

She turned her head and called out for a man rushing by.

"Erik, right? We're having a cutback on food. Make sure the cook and the stock supervisor are aware of it," she said and the man immediately changed direction after a slight nod. Helga turned back towards the general. There were lines on his face she wished she could erase.

She placed a firm hand on his arm. "Is something wrong, General?"

He quirked an eyebrow but smiled somewhat bitterly. "Other than the hundreds of injured and the war raging at our door?"

Her grip eased. "I know what our situation is. I want to make sure you are comfortable within the castle, too. How are _you_ feeling, Charles?"

"I'm just very tired, Helga." He wiped his face with his hand and let out a long, deep sigh. "I know this is what I've been trained to do, what I've trained others to do. But none of us actually thought such a day would come."

"Come have some water," she said with a tiny smile, placing her hand in the small of his back. He followed her towards the back of the Hall, where water for the injured was kept. She filled a cup for him, and he downed in in one go, pouring himself another one right after. He downed it again, seeming uneasy, and she confiscated his cup before he could have a third helping. That water _was_ for the injured after all.

"There is something I wish to talk to you about… Regarding Sir Slytherin and Sir Gryffindor's squad…"

She turned her eyes to him, filling her own glass of water.

The thunder was roaring outside and the rain hit the windows with force. She curled her lips. "What about them?" She asked, putting hastily a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"We haven't received any signs of them since last Tuesday."

She frowned. Last Tuesday was five days ago.

"You've already said that, general."

His eyes passed over her shoulder and he led them into an alcove. She let him without protesting.

"Nonetheless, I've got more information about your little… request."

Her pretty face froze.

"What's the connexion? What am I missing?" Her voice rose and she took a few breaths to calm down.

Charles twisted his face in a pained expression before delivering the news. "We've been betrayed."


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors' Note:**

Hullo peeps, how have you been?

First of all, sorry it took us three months to update but we've both been very busy over Christmas, so you'll have to forgive us. We hope the next chapter won't be as long to come about, even though one of us is trying to deal with depression right now, so inspiration isn't as easy to spike as it used to be.

We've been looking forward to writing and sharing this chapter with you, it was very fun and exciting to work on! We sincerely hope you like it as much as we do.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Beta:** Witchmeister, as usual: you rock!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The paintings weren't speaking anymore. He could see their gazes following him as he was strolling down the hallways, searching for some evidence of the strangers' presence, but they were staying deadly silent for the most part. They were disturbed. He could see it in the way the characters of each one were jumping from one picture to another when they thought he wasn't watching, in the way they kept on whispering unintelligible words.

He went back to his office to seek advice from the previous Headmasters' portraits, but they were either asleep or absent from their frames. So, he proceeded to pace in front of his desk instead, trying to think logically. If the strangers wanted to harm the students, then surely they would have done so already instead of just hiding, since they were already in the castle. However, it still doesn't explain how they could have appeared out of thin air in the middle of Hogwarts' domain.

The wards were supposed to prevent anyone but him—as their holder—to do so; at least, that's what he'd been told by Professor Dippet long ago. Hogwarts' grimoire seemed to be on the same page, so to speak. The only possible way for someone to go through protections as old as they were would be to have a deep understanding of those in particular and a great power. As far as he knew, only the Headmaster carried such knowledge and as of late, few wizards or witches held such power in the known world.

But that wasn't the only question left without an answer. For sure, he hadn't the slightest clue as to how they had been to this day able to literally hide in plain sight, so surely they must be immensely skilled in their magical abilities. The problem was, he hadn't a clue about their whereabouts, and the castle wasn't helping him in any way either. Somehow, he felt like not only the portraits weren't telling him, but the ghosts too. That outburst of magic had seemed to startle them, and they hadn't been acting the same since. What was really going on? He couldn't keep protecting the students in the castle if the danger was coming from Merlin knew where inside!

Although, between that and the Senior Undersecretary roaming the very halls of Hogwarts, he felt more aware of its displeasure day by day. He never really understood the link that bound the building to himself, despite spending fifty years or so to study the occurrence. But such magic always seemed to escape his comprehension.

Albus closed his eyes, opening his mind to the vast and powerful construction that was his school. He saw every room of every floor flash before his shut lids. The castle showed him the students, in class where they belonged, the young Malfoy grumpily sat with a chopping knife in hand, utterly destroying his cabbage. He vaguely heard the murmurs of some paintings and ghosts, seemingly worried, and possibly aware of the situation. In his mind, he went through some of the secret passages and into the hidden rooms he knew of, but there was no sign of the men he was looking for.

He backtracked into his office, rubbing his temples against a forming headache, anticipating a knock.

Faint footsteps came upon the entrance, but the knock didn't strike as he'd expected. The door banged on the wall, blowing the dust from the numerous paintings and strange artefacts piled up against his office walls.

"Poppy…" he started, but he was immediately interrupted.

"Oh, for the love of Morgana, do not 'Poppy' me, Albus! I can't stand it right now. I'm only here to get rid of the belongings you asked me to look at! I must say that I'm not used to _stealing_ from defenceless people. But I should know better with you by now."

Albus opened his mouth, but a glare from the Mediwitch stopped him. "I investigated as you tasked. They carried an oddly large amount of _knives and daggers _on them, something I have not seen since my apprenticeship. Some of them are poisoned, but aside from that, they're mundane weapons. However, when I cast spells on the sword and the rings, they nearly blew me up!"

She gave a long sigh, placing a hand on her forehead and letting it drop again at her side. "Really, Albus, you should have asked Filius. He's far better than me when it comes to charms and enchantments."

The Headmaster nodded, contemplating the Mediwitch's words and gave her a small smile. "I understand your concern, Poppy, however I tasked you and you alone to take care of our… visitors' belongings. And I trust you not to fail me. Not that I don't trust Filius," he added promptly, "but at the moment, the less people who know about the situation, the better."

Poppy just looked at him exasperatedly. "That's your problem, Albus," she said in a soft yet unquestioning tone. "You keep too many secrets, and that will be your doom." She turned and started walking back to the door, but she stopped just before disappearing behind it. "By the way, Albus," she turned a heated glare towards him. "If you force me to do that kind of pettiness again, I'll make sure you know who you're crossing. These two strangers aren't the only problem in this castle. You know that, make sure to deal with what I told you about or it'll be Minerva as well you'll have to answer to. She has never been as patient as me."

With that said, she left, leaving the door open and a thoughtful man behind her who was feeling like the years were crashing down on him all at once.

**.**

**.**

Harry was in his bed, curtains closed and the Marauder's Map open on his lap, displaying the two impossible names lying still. The day had been long and tedious, Malfoy trying to hex him around each corner and his housemates avoiding him like the plague, calling him a liar every chance they got, as he knew they were doing when they thought he couldn't hear. Harry felt lonelier than ever. Even Ron and Hermione, his all time best friends, didn't understand what he was feeling.

He missed Sirius and Remus. At least, Harry was sure, _they _would try to talk to him and ease his worries, not that anything, especially words, could do something against Voldemort trying to take over the Wizarding World. But they'd be there for him, and right now, it's all that mattered.

His headache was exacerbating. Harry didn't know much about this particular enigma and truthfully, he didn't want to think about it. Hermione might have the beginning of an answer, knowing how to work those cogs of hers in her brain, but Harry really didn't want to talk to her (or anyone really) right now. All he wanted, for once in his life, was to spend a normal year free of any danger with friends who weren't either ignoring him or calling him a liar.

**.**

**.**

Godric slowly regained consciousness, becoming vaguely aware of the room's lukewarm temperature and of the weight of a larger body against his. He sighed softly, his mind still foggy and tried to fall back into a dreamless sleep.

_Thump._

What he'd do for a few more hours...

_Thump._

His cheek was pressed against the other's chest and he smiled, content.

_Thump._

Sluggishly, he held the other body closer to his own.

_Thump_.

His smile slowly faded away. Something was wrong.

He frowned.

_Thump._

Dread came upon him at once and he felt his insides froze. He took a sharp, shocked intake of breath and he opened his eyes widely.

_Thump._

That wasn't the beat of his heart. It was Sal's.

And the realising weakness of it made his own tighten**.**

**.**

**.**

The Great Hall was filled with students enjoying their feast, the candles above their heads casting an eerie orange light down on them. The conversations were lively, some of the older students telling scary stories to the first years who were sure to get nightmares that night. The teachers were alert, on the lookout for any suspicious activity from either the two intruders (for those who knew about them) or from the ghosts, who hadn't appeared at all this evening. Though, none were more alert than the Potions Master who seemed to twitch with each laugh reverberating in the Great Hall. Even Filius and Minerva had stopped trying to include him into any sort of conversation and they had retreated to other chairs when the dark aura the professor had started spreading and became too dreadful for them to withstand.

A girly high-pitched laugh suddenly caught the attention of some students and they raised their eyes on the source. A ghostly Ravenclaw student wearing round glasses with pale skin and blank eyes had suddenly crashed into the Hall, a wide smile on her face, the like of not many have seen on her. She made her way not to the Ravenclaw table but towards the Gryffindor one under the watchful gaze of at least two teachers. The ghost floated gleefully until she sat on an empty seat next to Harry.

"Hello, Harry dear," she whispered in his ear as she rubbed her arm against his shoulder, effectively preventing him from eating his buffalo wing. "Enjoying yourself tonight?"

Harry placed his food back onto his plate and pushed it back, his already small appetite completely gone. "Hi, Myrtle," he sighed, turning to face her with a forced smile. "Glad to see you here." He waited for an answer, for something, but the silence stretched and all she was doing was staring deeply at him and they started to draw attention to themselves once more. Harry sent a silent call for help to his friends but Ron turned his eyes away, eating all the food his mouth came across while Neville and Hermione glanced sheepishly at him before starting to quietly chat.

Desperate, Harry turned back to Myrtle and to his utter dismay, her eyes started turning glassy and tears poured from her eyes. Before he could say anything, she put her head down onto his shoulder and grabbed his arm. He gasped as he felt a looming chill crawling up his spine. He shuddered.

"Oh, Harry! If only you knew how the others are with me," she cried. Her sobs becoming fiercer as Harry tried to escape her grasp, in vain. Her grip on him was painful.

Another racket was heard before two more ghosts—a young red-headed man, chains clinging to his wrists, and freckles on his bloodied face, and a young and beautiful woman with dark hair and darker eyes dressed in a long rich robe—appeared behind them, looking quite angry. Harry turned towards them and Myrtle's lips planted onto his cheek. The Gryffindor felt very small next to the tall figures in front of him, arms crossed on their chests and positively fuming. If the dead could give off heat like the living, the temperature in the Hall would have risen at least two degrees higher.

"Myrtle," the bigger spectre said in a controlled voice, "don't mingle."

The other placed a hand on his other shoulder and smiled at Harry before looking at her companion again. "It's not her fault," she said, "she doesn't know any better."

The grumpy ghost grunted. "Enjoy the rest of the night, Harry," he said before floating away without acknowledging anyone else.

Harry blinked. He didn't know the Bloody Baron knew his name. Actually, he never seemed to talk to anyone. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ron shooting him a wide-eyed glance. Definitely irregular, then.

The other ghost gave him an apologizing smile and flew towards a high windowsill where she sat, her legs dangling lightly.

"See what I mean!" Myrtle shouted at Harry before dashing away, the sound of her sobs echoing around the Hall as she left.

"Good to see you again," Harry murmured to himself, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice to avoid looking at the stares the scenes are brought on him. Not that he wasn't used to it by now…

A big explosion coming from behind him almost made him choke on his drink, the sound of laughter emerging almost immediately after. A few first years yelped as the explosion was timed just when the Weasley twins were narrating the climax of their story.

"Crabbe," hissed a brown-haired Slytherin. She glared at the one next to him. "Don't feel like you have to help or anything, Blaise! And stop laughing!"

Blaise smirked while she was trying to soothe her scorched hair.

"Warning. Upcoming tsunami," Draco whispered in her ear.

"Uh-huh." With a sly smile, she waited patiently until Blaise brought his cup to his mouth and cast a spell that made his juice overflow and drip onto his lap. Almost choking, he threw the cup back on the table and stood up in a coughing fit, wiping his trousers with his hands and shaking them on his prankster.

"Oohh, looks like you've had a bit of an accident there, Blaise," the witch teased, wiping a few drops off her cheek and resumed eating her dinner as if she had nothing to do with his current state.

"Fuck off, Pans," he growled at her, and she winked in response, satisfied with her well-executed revenge.

Draco rolled his eyes, sipping his own pumpkin juice. Feeling eyes on him, he raised his head. Potter looked away quickly and he frowned, a smirk blooming on his mouth, not having missed the scene with Moaning Myrtle earlier on.

"Even dead girls can't stand you, Scarface?" he shouted. He grinned when the other snarled.

"Ignore him," Hermione advised, "he's just trying to be interesting, as usual." So _now_ she cared? Harry didn't need her advice to do just that. He drew his hand back when she tried to reach it and had a sad look in her eyes when he did. "Harry," she said, worried.

Though, anything else she was about to say died in her throat when two unknown men appeared in the middle of the Hall in a flash of light.

**.**

**.**

Severus rubbed his temples, tired of the turn of events. First a hysteric ghost barging in and leaving just as soon, then the Slytherins acting up again—he seriously thought Umbridge was going to storm over to their table at any moment to scold them like the whiny Ministry employee she was. Not only that, but the mission Albus had tasked him to carry was giving no results at all. Every time he thought he got close to finding the men, it either turned out to be students snogging around a corner or Peeves just being himself. What _else_ would happen tonight that was completely unpredictable?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a loud noise echoed in the Hall and two familiar figures popped out of nowhere—only the brief description Albus had given him a few days ago helping him identify them. Silence took place as all students turned towards the teachers' table, where the two men were standing. Well, one of them was.

"I surrender," the red-haired man confessed in an exhausted voice, turning to the Mediwitch and tightly holding onto his unconscious friend's body. Even in this state the poor man looked like he suffered a lot from the poison in his veins.

Albus stared at him with knowing eyes.

"I have to admit, you do not look like you do."

"That's because my words weren't meant for you, thief. It's not to you I'm giving up to, only to your healer."

The students shared confused and worried glances. Nobody ever spoke to the Headmaster with so much scorn, not even Umbridge.

"I've no affinity with this art or the potions knowledge to help my friend and she seemed competent." He gave him a worried look when the other man grunted and broke into a sweat.

"As of now, she's my only option. But do not misunderstand, no debts will arise from this. You're in no position to gain one from me. This castle is a sanctuary and I'll do whatever I have to do to ensure it'll stay that way." He looked pointedly at Albus, quite satisfied when he saw the corner of his eye flinch. "Now if you please, my friend needs immediate medical attention…"

His eyes were hard but there was also despair and frustration shining on his face.

A chair scraped the ground loudly in the deadly silence, and Pomfrey stood up.

"I'm willing to help you if you swear on your magic that neither you nor your friend have evil intentions towards this castle and its inhabitants. Also we will talk when I'm done and you won't leave before at least three witnesses have agreed on both your righteousness. You will not be allowed to contact anyone from outside this castle and you may be subjected to potions or spells that will help us to know of your truthfulness. Do you accept these conditions?"

The man gritted his teeth, but one look towards his companion? friend? seemed to melt all his loathing and doubts. He cared for him, it was obvious. Perhaps, a bit too much for his taste.

"I do."

"Do you swear on your magic?"

"I swear. So mote it be! Now—"

"Now you follow me," Pomfrey interrupted, taking charge. "Severus, you're coming as well," she added in a hasty voice, and he followed without asking questions, leaving his dinner untouched.

The rest of the teachers had their gazes turned towards Albus, and he stood up to talk to the assembly of students who were still silent.

"Worry not, students. These men mean no harm to us, and merely need our help. I'll go there myself to make sure they're comfortable, and leave the Professor McGonagall in charge."

He stood up and started walking out, but when the students remained motionless, he added, "Eat up now!"

Murmurs rose from all four tables as theories started forming into the pupils' heads, especially from a certain group in the Gryffindor's table. As the teachers made their way out, the two ghosts looked at each other in shock, one with her hand in front of her mouth, and the other looking livid if that was even possible for a ghost.

A shocked gasp was all Severus heard before leaving the hall and walking faster towards the infirmary. He had no doubt Umbridge would have two words to tell them once things settled down.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors' Note:**

Hello hello! How are you feeling? Surely better now that a new chapter is out, right? (sorry, that was super lame.)

This chapter features a flashback from the past, which is not the same as a scene taking place in the past like the part with Helga you read on chapter 3. What happens in the past takes place 'at the same time' as the events in present Hogwarts. The flashbacks are events that already happened before the situation in past Hogwarts.

Hope this explanation is clear, but if you get confused and want indications such as 'flashback', 'past Hogwarts' or 'present Hogwarts', feel free to tell us and we'll adjust.

Enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer:** The universe and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Beta:** Witchmeister, much appreciated.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Another impact shook Hogwarts' very walls but neither the adults nor the smaller ones paid it any attention, they had no time for that after all. When an attack came, each resident of the castle were assigned to a set of duties. The absent mindedness of one of them could easily set in motion a chain of disasters. For all of them. Sal made sure they understood that before each admittance. Belief that the others would do their best was of the utmost importance in their lives into the castle.

They trusted the warders, they had done a great job hiding their position and protecting them until now, rightfully earned, and it worked. They trusted the cooks, they had given their everything to make sure everyone was fed, even in small quantities, and thus, in their dedication the system worked. They trusted the Vanguard, for its members knew the outside world better than anyone else and risked their lives every day to save the innocents and fight against the Darkness, who warranted it, and thus, everything sustained.

At least, was supposed to. But the thing with that kind of organization was that information had to be shared or the very roots of what they had created could come and strangle them any time. Rumors, half-heard conversations and gossips, that kind of foolishness could easily run rampant if news weren't shared with everyone. Information was power and power led to hierarchy, which wasn't what they were aiming for. Respect and trust was. They were at war, they couldn't afford any weaknesses. The enemy would have no pity on them. Though, they were human, with or without magic. Any mistake could be made, could be fixed, could be forgiven, forgotten. They certainly could. But not all of them.

Rowena had a headache. Looking at maps, she was trying to understand how they could have missed the clues on the last outpost attack. Two weeks ago, she had sent men to guard a post near the borders of the battlefield, where rations and medical supplies were provided by a neutral party. The mission was supposed to be simple enough and with the least amount of danger, but after a few hours, a messenger came back to ask for reinforcement, as the enemy had been waiting there for them. Rowena, in a calm response, had ordered a general to create a party and join the first group to aid them. However, he came back with meagre supplies and only half the men and women sent there, the rest having been either killed or captured by the enemy.

But the whole tragedy didn't make any sense. The outpost was situated in such a place that they couldn't have been taken by surprise. No enemy could have hidden its approach and there were always a few on careful watch. Of course, no such person came back, so none know exactly what happened.

Since then, anger has started to brew in their soldiers ranks (and she didn't like calling them that, but that's what they were, that's what they all had to become to survive). They were more determined than ever to make sure Hogwarts was secure enough. Which… was not bad in a sense, but not great either. Some were making rash decisions at key moments and they had started to take out their rage on the wrong targets.

It was getting out of hand, and she worried. It had happened before, of course, especially at the beginning of the situation, but this time seemed different.

The enemy appeared to know about them, yet they had succeeded in hiding their location for years—_years_—and nothing had changed, so how? Their tactics, being one step ahead of them when they least expected it. It was disconcerting.

Then, the infighting, (one would think normal under those circumstances) could escalate to violence and going as far as using complex runes and fighting styles, tiring them faster. Rowena was trying to put all the pieces together, and the full picture was starting to look like something she didn't even want to conceive. But if it turned out to be true, they would all be in a greater danger than that roaming outside their

Despite their great teams and the efficiency in their role system, Rowena couldn't help the doubts plaguing her mind. She knew better than to blindly trust her allies and instead trust her own instincts in case of doubt. What she needed right now was to determine whether or not her doubts were legitimate. Perhaps, she was just needlessly worrying. Yet knowing herself as well as she did, it was highly improbable that she was wrong. Time for rest could wait, as she was determined to prove this inclination.

Her one and only confidente in this mission would be Helga, who had proved herself more than capable, on many levels. She kept her cool in dire situations. That way, she would have a strong ally to rely on as Rowena knew, Helga was able to protect the castle and its inhabitants with all her might with clear judgement.

She trusted Godric and Sal, of course she did. But she needed a logical kind of thinking, and Helga had the habit of making her see things she hadn't even considered previously. She had her own rationality and they matched really well in that aspect.

If she was right. If they had a… a… a _spy_ in their ranks… But who? Who would work for the Darkness willingly? It didn't make sense. None of the recent happenings did… and the madness of everything was starting to cling badly to her.

She had to remember to keep calm. To focus. She wouldn't let the enemy take her. She couldn't.

**.**

**.**

The clamour didn't die down, no matter how much Minerva tried to silence and settle the restless students.

Helena and the Bloody Baron watched from a distance, shocked to have seen their family and friends respectively in such a state of hopelessness. They were aware of their presence in the castle of course, but they had no idea Sal had been injured. And it had seemed serious by the looks of it.

Moreover, it was Godric's state which worried them the most. His behaviour a few minutes prior had been… unusual to say the least. Godric wasn't one to be this emotional. He was always grounded, logical and never let his feelings overwhelm him. But of course, and they shared a troubled glance, it wouldn't be the first time he made an exception concerning one of his loved ones… He was flawed as much as them and they were _painfully_ aware of it.

Now, even the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was trying to contain the students' fit, despite the other teachers' best efforts to try and tell her to stay out of it.

It was quite a funny show, to be fair, seeing the woman dressed in pink flushing a similar shade when she was refused the right to help calm the situation. She tried nonetheless to do something when yet another explosion was heard from the Slytherin table followed by laughter from the troublemakers and screams from the younger students.

Ignoring the students and the teachers running around, with a silent agreement, they flew out of the Great Hall, intending to follow the red head and the unconscious blond to the Hospital Wing.

They didn't know yet what they'd do, the Baron hadn't as he never imagined he would see their faces again after… everything. Yet, even if Helena had this opportunity—because, of course, she'd been informed of her mother and aunt's little project and the unattended conclusion—at the present time, she was feeling as if someone was crushing her chest, and her fading breath rapidly turned to gasps.

The Bloody Baron watched her internal struggle, biting his lips worryingly without making a step in her direction. He never dared, he never would, and it was all for the best. He had known her for so many years, after all, and even when they were alive he had known better than to interrupt her train of thoughts when she was like this.

The one time he had made the mistake, he paid the price severely. So, he simply followed her, one step behind, on their way to the Hospital Wing.

Flowing as fast as they dared, they stopped after passing through yet another doorway leading to the higher stairways. Waiting there in a semicircle were most of the ghosts residing on Hogwarts grounds. They stared at them without uttering a word for a long time, as Helena quickly started to lose patience.

"Let us through," she hissed between her teeth, the sound making the weaker ones flinch. She smiled at that, knowing she would get her way if she kept pushing. She kept her voice low as she spoke. "I suggest you move aside before I really get angry. And trust that none of you have seen me on a very bad day yet."

Some of them gulped and one stepped forward. Bravery or foolishness, none could tell.

"We wish not to bother you, my Lady. We…" The ghost looked around for a second, before lowering his eyes once more. "We only want to make sure you're feeling alright."

Her eyes widened, before her face turned emotionless once more. She grimaced as a sharp pain started clenching her heart. She'd never recovered. Never. And she'd had a thousand years to feel ashamed of her behavior. If only she had seen what was right before her, if only she'd listened to her aunt… She had spent centuries feeling guilty about it, and about what happened to Salazar and Godric then.

She closed her eyes and controlled her voice.

"I am quite alright," she said, not above a whisper. "Now if you please, I'd like to tend to my friends."

She parted through the crowd easily, followed by her partner, as always. He'd always been there for her, and she was ever so grateful to him, although she never cared to admit it aloud. She would have to properly thank him for his loyalty, one day. He'd no doubt be embarrassed and flail his hands around, telling her he merely did his job. Sometimes, she swore he was more Hufflepuff than Slytherin.

Casting these thoughts aside, she quickened her pace as she knew they were approaching the Hospital Wing. But right before she floated through the doors, new thoughts and feelings rushed to her.

She felt like her heart was going to explode and she breathed shakily, wrapping her arms around herself. She had no right to feel this insecure. But she did. She was. Because the men behind these doors were family and she had longed for something akin to that for so many years she couldn't remember when exactly she'd lost it in the first place. Was it when she went away with the diadem? Before? Certainly before… She had been a disgraceful child back then…

The Bloody Baron—such a terrible name for someone akin to his character—stepped ahead and turned towards her, a kind smile on his freckled face.

"Shall we?"

She smiled back and after taking several deep, calming breaths, finally stepped through the doors and into the infirmary. Immediately, she was struck with raised voices—one in particular which she hadn't heard in a very long time—, seemingly caught in an argument, she hadn't been able to to hear from the other side of the doors. This time, she didn't allow herself to panic and stepped forward, wanting, needing to see what was happening. The few seconds it should have taken to reach the occupied bed seemed to stretch into minutes, and Helena felt herself almost breaking into a sweat.

But that was ridiculous, of course, as ghosts couldn't manifest any physical changes.

As she approached, the voices seemed to get louder, as if cushioned by the distance, somehow.

Soon enough, she reached the bed on which Sal was lying, one of his hands clasped in Ric's very tightly. The nature of the argument became very apparent.

**.**

**.**

As they walked across the numerous hallways—which could have been avoided if they had taken one of the hidden passages; seriously how dumb did they think they were, making such a big castle without making sure they could get from one side to the other quickly enough—he could feel the presence of a man he could not remember the name. He drew his wand and kept it in hand all the way through, reacting accordingly to the threat presented.

Every one of his muscles were tense. He hated that. He hated being in a compromised situation. Because regardless of what he'd said earlier, he knew he was trapped. And he'd done this to himself all alone. Because he was an idiot who couldn't read more than a chapter of a potions' book before getting bored.

His fists tightened around Sal—he had refused to let go of him, much to the displeasure of everyone involved—and the Healer turned a careful eye in his direction.

They entered a room where several beds were lined up.

It was the exact same they escaped from a few days earlier. He eyed it and frowned slightly when he caught a thin crack in the wall, but his attention turned swiftly to Sal once more when he started violently shaking.

He tightened his grip around him as he feared his friend was going to retch, but Sal did no such thing. Instead, his head just dropped on his shoulder and his breathing became more erratic. Panicked, Godric turned his head towards the Healer, his eyes glaring at her to do something to ease his pain.

"Just put him there," she ordered, pointing her wand towards a bed. He did as told while she went into a room adjacent to this one and came back a few seconds later with a set of potions in hand. "Since you didn't complete the full treatment last time, your friend will have to expel all the poison at once, and not in the nicest way."

She flicked her wand at him, nodding sternly at something she saw and handed Ric a first potion.

He uncorked the vial and tipped Sal's head forward, but his lips remained sealed, his teeth gritting as he struggled to contain the pain.

"Come on, Sal," he murmured, encouraging his mate to drink the liquid. "You need to drink this, you'll feel better after." He tried to keep his own voice steady, as to not share his panic with the one who needed it the least.

Sal shook his head weakly, opening his eyes in slits to stare at Ric, conveying his message. "Then at least trust me," Ric said, trying to show his own emotions to Sal. He really needed him to drink the potion.

The battle lasted only a few seconds as a new fit of pain submerged Sal, who opened his mouth for the briefest instant, and Ric jumped on the occasion to make the liquid flow in his throat. That was one small victory he was sure to pay later on, but at the moment, all Ric cared about was to save his life. It was short lived, however, as the Healer handed him a second potion and Sal turned away from him, or tried to.

His hand was grabbed by the red-headed man who placed it on his own widely beating heart and Sal became suddenly very still. His magic roared in his veins but he didn't force it into Sal's body. Morgana knew what effect that could have on his friend when his illness was that bad. It didn't help last time. He wasn't ready to try it out.

"Can you feel it?" Godric whispered and the three other ones stared at them in confusion.

"I can't," Sal replied after a moment, his eyes closing in concentration. After a few seconds, he started to relax slightly.

"Good?" Godric asked, his frown vanishing.

"Good," Sal said, sharing a meaningful glance with his mate.

Godric bit his lower lip and tilted his head at the Healer who took advantage of the newly returned peace to cast a few spells and made her patient drink the potion Severus had just handed her after the last doomed one fell.

"This is no dream," Sal stated thoughtfully.

"No," Ric answered him, "I'm afraid it is not." He looked at his friend with tired eyes and rubbed slow circles to the back of the hand he was still holding with his thumb. "But you're gonna be better soon, I promise."

They shared a weak smile, but their relief was cut short when the hand of the Healer landed on Godric's shoulder.

"Oh, it is not over yet, young man," she announced in a warning tone. "The potions we gave you are to help expel the poison, and to help deal with the pain that is to come. But I'm afraid that with the amount of poison still present in your veins, the pain will remain excruciating."

"What?" Godric hissed at her with a tone he hoped was menacing despite the fact that he wanted to sleep more than anything at the moment.

"The poison," the man in black robes—what was his name again?—grumbled, "is very potent. In all my years, I can't say I've come across something quite like that."

Godric blanched. He looked down on his friend, his eyes lingering on his pale face and enclosed his shaky hands on Sal's. His gaze, turned sharper, rose on the other man, sceptical.

"I beg your pardon?" His voice turned sour. "My friend is right there is dying from said poison, and all you find to do is marvel in its potency?"

Godric found it incredible how many crazy people now resided in this castle. First an old man who obviously took pleasure in seeing them hide and suffer, then a young boy who held the strongest grudges and finally a dirty-haired wizard fascinated by how fast a potion could kill someone. He laughed bitterly.

"I don't know what happened for you all to make fun of such a situation, but I can assure you I found no joy in forcing unknown potions in my friend's throat. Thus, you should pray your remedy won't worsen his condition or you'll learn who you have crossed exactly," he boomed, his magic flowing and twisting in the air, tangling his red mane even further. The man tensed, taking one step backwards, his wand still in hand, seemingly struggling not to point it in his direction.

"Enough!"

The sudden roar from the Healer surprised the both of them, and Godric took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves.

"You are in a hospital, and there is a patient who still needs medical attention. If you are unable to keep quiet I'd advise you to step outside, regardless of who you are."

If the situation had been any different, Godric would have applauded her. In the meantime, he did his best to hold his tongue while Sal recovered.

A cough from his mate made him turn his attention on Sal.

A thin bloodied smile on his face and eyes closed, he spoke, "Ro wouldn't have...said it better." He grimaced, a bonny hand making its way to his head. "What...happened?"

Godric paled even more.

"You don't remember?" He asked, his voice hollowed and his lips pursed.

"How did we get here? When..?" he asked while taking the glass of water Godric had summoned for him. He took a sip from it.

Godric's eyes turned towards the floor.

"Two days… that was two days ago…"

Sal frowned, his lips blood red.

"What… what are you talking about?" he asked, a trail of blood leaking from the corners of his mouth and his breath wheezing.

Godric kept his head down, his dirty red locks were covering his eyes. The fatigue started to take effect on his being. The lion took a breath before smoothing his features. Then, he rose. He began pacing, thinking of a smooth way to explain the situation to his mate. He scratched at his nonexistent beard (he didn't like wearing one, as it made him look old—Sal thought so too). Taking another deep breath before letting it out very slowly, strongly aware of the eyes following his every move and word. He was completely worn out.

"I failed you Sal…"

"What are you—" Sal grunted, "—talking about?" he repeated.

Thick beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he bit his already injured lip, a weak cry escaping. Soon enough, his eyes rolled backwards and he passed out.

Godric took a shaky breath.

"Is this… supposed to happen?" he asked.

The other two shared a worried glance, not saying a word, and the Healer started feverishly casting spells at the sick man, studying intently the answers they were giving her.

Something in Godric snapped, his face turned grim and he threw a punch in the nearest wall, denting it with wild surging of magic. He took a few deep breaths, leaning his forehead on top of the newly-made hole and whispered, "Sorry."

He closed his eyes and stayed like that for what felt like hours. So did the hole. Godric couldn't feel the castle's magic repairing itself, and that was definitely not normal. Now that he thought about it calmly, the window he had shattered a couple days ago was still lying in pieces on the floor. Something was wrong and he was itching to know what.

He sighed, wiped his face with the palm of his hand and waved the other towards the glass bits, ordering them to fix themselves. They obeyed and a few seconds later, the window was back to its original state.

He heard a gasp from behind him but paid it no mind.

"What's happening to you, dear friend," he murmured and that's when he noticed the silence that had fallen on the room. He blinked several times before turning.

"Mister… ah, I didn't catch your name, I think," the Healer tried, her fingers trembling, clearly exhausted by her spell-casting.

He gazed at her a few seconds before reaching the bed again in one stride, taking Sal's hand in his own and stroking his palm.

"It's Godric."

"Godric?" She raised a brow. "Well, Mister Godric, I've stabilized your… friend's condition for now. However, as the poison involved is unknown to myself and to our potions master, I cannot guarantee his safety as of yet. What we gave him should help a bit for now. In the meantime, we'll do further research on the composition of the poison. It seems some of the ingredients don't exist anymore to my knowledge." She eyed him suspiciously and he held her gaze without wavering.

"Are you telling me you administered him a remedy without knowing whether or not it would actually work?" His voice was sharp, crushing what remained of his newly-regained self-control. "I could have done that myself with the books I gathered from the library if I wanted to! I trusted you to do a better job than me, but if it turns out you are incompetent, I—"

"Uncle Godric? Is that you?"

He turned to see the evanescent form of Helena—_Helena_!—and then his mask shattered altogether. A gasp, two more and he rose on shaky legs. She was straight away at his side.

"Uncle, don't push yourself too hard. Rest, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," she said with a fond tone. She pushed lightly on his shoulders—and the contact seemed to brighten her spectral body—and he fell on the bed once more. She smiled sweetly (Rowena's smile, a little crooked but so very warm, and it had been so long…).

"Hely…" He whispered in disbelief.


End file.
